David Dobrik Imagines

Late Night Phone Call - Smut

You were just curious.

Honestly.

It was one of those nights where you just couldn't fall asleep for the life of you for no apparent reason and it was growing increasingly annoying. Tossing and turning under your sheets soon became tedious, the irritation boiling inside of you until you forced yourself up and out of bed and down stairs to your living room with a blanket. Grabbing the remote from the coffee table you flicked the flat screen on and got comfortable amongst the cushions of your couch.

It had been an hour or so now, the clock across the room reading 3:06 and yet sleep was no where on your radar. You had taken to scrolling through your phone due to lack of content broadcasting on just about every television station—it was that point in the night where there were only infomercials playing.

Finger flicking the screen of your phone once more, you absentmindedly scrolled through your twitter, reading but not really absorbing anything due to lack of interest.

"Are you feeling lonely?"

Your ears perked at the ominously seductive voice echoing off your walls, eyes instantly shifting to the tv.

Prancing around in nothing but tight briefs were a montage of multiple male models, all of them genuinely too pretty to portray whoever the add was selling. But it did the job in catching your attention so you have to give them credit.

"Are you in the need for companionship, a fiery Friday night inside instead of out?" The man's sickly sweet tone spoke over the provocative music decorating the background of the video, another man appearing laying sprawled out on a couch.

"Why don't you take your chances and call us at 1-800-FUN-TIME."

A phone sex company? Of course this would only air at 3 in the morning.

"Spend time talking to some of our hottest guys with the hottest voices. Only 50 cents per minute with your one night beau."

"Yeah right." You scoffed to yourself, snorting and reaching forward to grab the remote, switching the channel to another random number and letting it play as you returned back to your phone.

30 or so minutes passed.

And you couldn't get that damn background music out of your head. The jingle rang between your ears continuously, despite your efforts to ignore it and focus on the hundreds of tweets scrolling over your phone screen. It was obnoxious.

Though you had to admit it had been quite some time since the last time anyone besides yourself got you off, 7 months to be exact. You were constantly tied up at work, project after project within the company being handed to you which left you little time to associate with anyone besides those in your work circle. And if you weren't stuffed underneath piles and piles of manila folders and emails you were sleeping. The last time you went outside of the house for yourself was when you walked from your front door to the mailbox on the first floor of the apartment complex, and that was less than 10 minutes.

This just wasn't a period in your life where you could really search for a relationship and actually have one. All your efforts went into work and work only.

But maybe you deserved attention..even if it was a paid job.

Before you could even recognize what you were doing the pads of your fingers were typing away on the keypad, the numbers rolling off as if you had them memorized (which after that commercial flashing it over and over again at the bottom of the screen you practically did).

"1-800-FUN-TIME"

The phone began to ring and suddenly your palms were sweating, cheating constricting itself of air as the realization hit you that you were *actually doing this.